The Recruiter
by Ancisace
Summary: A tournament recruiter visits a Mokari warrior. UT2k3 fic, my first fic in too long. Please R + R (Now Fixed Awkward Formatting)


Standard warning #415465423: I obviously do not own any of the characters of Unreal Tournament 2003.  
  
If you really feel the need to sue me: good luck. I'm not really a person. I'm a poltergeist, and this story is just what happened when I threw a 13 year old girl across the room and onto a keyboard, and you can't sue a ghost :)  
  
This story is complete in itself, but if the response is positive and I can think of a way to crack iut I might go into this further. If you want more of this then says so, because reviews are what I use to tell what people think and because they make me feel go----od!  
  
[b]The Recruiter[/b]  
  
[b]By Ancisace[/b]  
  
It was dark outside and raining heavily. Beyond the glow of the electric lights there was nothing but blackness. The soft light from the pulsing blue lamps shone through the rain speckled glass and projected gently rippling shadows into the room on the other side of the glass.  
  
The room was almost completly empty Nothing covered the unheated yellow tiles, and the walls were plain and unpainted. Only the tall wooden stool in which the Gen Mokkai female sat was kept in this room. Her pale yellow eyes stared unseeing into the halflight, her tail swishing gently from side to side as she meditated.  
  
She exhaled slowly and here eyes became lighter and brighter until they were glowing pure white. Meditation normally helped the pain from the scars, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. There was a nagging feeling that she had forgotten something, but she could never quite remember what it was.  
  
She reached up to her face and touched the wound. It was still fresh and raw, and would be for as long as she lived. The disfiguring venom of the Predator, an arachnid indigenous to Arborea prevented her wound from healing itself. It resisted everything from surgery, cellular regeneration therapy and skin grafts. It even prevented her from being cloned sucessfully. It worked for a short time, but the clones would decay within hours of conciousness transfer. She was very rich, but even her wealth could not solve the problem. She had retreated to the safety of her home and become bitter and reclusive. She found it hard to recall when she even left the house last.  
  
There was a knock at the door, and Sabrian entered. He was under strict orders never to disturb her while meditating.  
  
She glared at him.  
  
'There had better,' she snarled, "Be a good reason for this. You know what I told you about disturbing me...'  
  
Sabrian bowed, making sure he never actually looked at her.  
  
'A human has arrived, asking to see you immediately. He says that it is important that he sees you as soon as possible. What should I do?'  
  
She paused for a moment and then said 'Send him in'.  
  
Sabrian seemed a little surprised, but did as he was commanded.   
  
Most of her people hated and despised humans. A disease carried by humans had wiped out just under a third of her race within weeks of first contact, and the Mokari race were slow to forgive and never forgot. However, when humans came they brought opportunities. They always, always wanted something in return, but sometimes the price was a fair one.  
  
Sabrian returned, a human male a few paces behind him. The human was roughly middle aged. His face was wrinkled, and there were a couple of scars but otherwise he seemed in good health. He had evidently been a strong and healthy man once, but age had taken its toll. He wore the grey overalls and white boots of a flight officer in the Imperial Air And Space Combat Corps. He bowed low and greeted her in hesitant, heavily accented Mokari. Like almost all humans, his voice sounded child-like to her ears, but she knew that to a human she sounded like a man.   
  
"G'em suhar, Ibru Nebri"  
  
Nebri smiled briefly, returned the bow. She replied in perfect human.  
  
"Your pronunciation could use a little work, but I appreciate the sentiment. Most humans just use translators. The personal touch is so rare these days, Commander Verren"  
  
Commander Verren looked taken aback.  
  
"Where did you learn to speak human, Ibru Nebri? And how did you know my name?"  
  
"In my younger days I spent a year studying at the Abaria Flight Combat School on Deyal six. You were frequently discussed by students who hoped to be selected by you for competition or who hoped for sexual relations with you. You were considered very attractive by many members of your race, Commabder Verren"  
  
Commander Verren laughed loudly. If he was embarrassed he did not show it.  
  
"That was quite some time ago. The years have not been kind, Ibru Nebri"  
  
Nebri watched him carefully, saying nothing. Commander Verren hesitated as he waited for a response, but there was none so he continued speaking.  
  
"As you know, I am Commander Verren, chief recruiting officer for DeathMatch tournament. I am here because I believe you have what it takes to compete at the highest level. You have much experience of combat both armed and unarmed. You are a vetern of most of the inter-tribal disputes that have arisen between your tribe and others in recent years. Before your accident you were considered the best warrior of your tribe, and one of the best warriors of the Mokari people, period. We would like you to join us as soon as possible, Ibru Nebri"  
  
Nebri glared at him balefully and barked a command in Mokari that Verren did not understand.  
  
Commander Verren squeezed his eyes shut until his eyes had adapted to the harsh bright light that suddenly flooded the room.  
  
His gaze was automatically attracted to the wound. Below her muzzle Nebri looked like any other Mokari female. Above her muzzle was a different story. The upper layers of flesh had dessicated, decayed and sloughed away, showing the thin layer of yellow fatty tissue underneath. Every vein and capillary in her face was swollen and bright orange, distorted by the spider venom in a way that reminded Verren of a road network viewed from space. Just below the eye socket were two sooty black circles with acid green dots at the centre. Commander Verren couldn't help wincing and looking away.  
  
"That is what I get," said Nebri, "Everytime somebody looks at me. My own family will not look me in the face when they speak to me. What could possibly make me want to show this wound to the people of a hundred worlds all over the galaxy? Bloodsports are what made me go hunting archnids and look what happened to me. Give me one good reason why I should take up another?"  
  
Commander Verren paused, possibly for dramatic effect.  
  
"What if I could offer you hope for a cure?"  
  
Nebri spat on the floor and swore in Mokari.  
  
"There is no cure. I've spent a fortune, and it has gained me nothing at all. Don't try to take advantage of my injury. That would be a mistake you wouldn't make more than once."  
  
Commander Verren leaned against the doorway and folded his arms.  
  
"A long time ago a certain Doctor Hannaby lost his daughter to the bite of a juvenile Arborean predator spider while researching your people. His main area of study swiftly shifted to biochemistry. He stumbled upon a vaccine, but he could not find a way to mass produce the substance."  
  
Nebri said nothing, but Commander Verren knew he had her full attention.  
  
"With enough resources a research team might be able to find a way to produce the vaccine in sufficient quantities to be effective. With the venom and the virus removed you could have any medical treatment you want to remove the scars. Your face could be rebuilt. Even with your wealth you could not afford to fund that research for long enough to get results. A DeathMatch winner could. Malcom recieves 30 billion dollars a match from merchandising and pay per view percentages. So could you."  
  
Nebri began to think. She thought about the days when she could walk amongst her tribe without shame.She pictured the amazement on the faces of all the former suitors who dropped her like hot metal after the accident. The more she thought of this, the more she wanted it to be true.  
  
Nebri walked over to Verren and shook his hand, human fashion. She looked him in the eye, and this time he did the same without reacting.  
  
"If I win, I get the research. No stalling, and no tricks. Is that correct?"  
  
"Of course, Ibru Nebri"  
  
"Then I accept. I will fight in DeathMatch,"  
  
Verren looked delighted.  
  
"Excellent! I look forward to working with you. I'll bring the contract tomorrow!"  
  
With that he left the room. Nebri watched him through the window as he rejoined his bodyguards and rode off in a speeder. It was still raining hard, and beyond the circle of the pulsing blue lights it was still pitch black, but she felt better than she had for a long time. She was going to start living again. She could hardly wait. 


End file.
